


Mirrors (P.O. X Sister!Reader & Mino X Reader)

by S0N9_M1N0 (ixiiii)



Category: Block B, Winner (Band)
Genre: (Y/N) - Freeform, Brother-Sister Relationships, F/M, Reader-Insert, reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-08-22 17:14:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16602194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ixiiii/pseuds/S0N9_M1N0
Summary: "Jihoon won't like this." (Y/N) whispered, her eyes looking up at him nervously.He ran his fingers through his hair, an apology already forming on his lips."But," she cut him off. "Minho....I....I want to do this. Help me through it.""You sure?"She was a hair's breadth away."I- I'm sure."Gently placing his hand on the back of her neck, Song Minho pulled Pyo (Y/N) towards him and kissed her.





	1. Chapter 1

"IT'S BLACK!" Minho freezes when he hears a girl's scream coming from Block B's studio.

Jihoon's voice, unmistakably loud, comes shouting back: "NO, IT'S BLUE!"

"OBVIOUSLY IT'S BLACK, JI, YOU'RE JUST COLOR BLIND!"

Jiho's voice yells, "GUYS, SHUT UP! I'M TRYING TO WORK, AND I'M JI! HE'S HOONIE!"

"LEE SEUNGHOON IS HOONIE!" Minho perks up at the name of one of Winner's members. "AND IT'S BLACK!"

"WELL, THEN I CAN BE HOON!" P.O yells. "BUT IT'S BLUE!"

"FINE! ALTHOUGH IT'S BLACK, NOT BLUE! BOYS ARE MORE COLOR BLIND THAN GIRLS, TRUST GIRLS FOR COLOR!"

"THAT'S JUST BS!"

"WELL, IT'S SCIENTIFICALLY PROVEN!" The girl shouts, again. "TOO BAD, SUCKER! DEAL WITH IT!"

He winces at the loud sounds (AND the studio's soundproofed) and digs out his earphones, turning on music to zone the screams out. In the distance though, he can still hear the faint shouts.

He was actually just supposed to have a quick surprise visit to Block B. It, however, seems to be a bad time to be visiting.

 _Is that his girlfriend or something?_ The rapper laughs at the thought and immediately banishes it. Pyo with a girlfriend? Out of all people?

Reaching for the handle of the door, he turns it and is immediately greeted with the sight of chaos in the studio. Zico's the only one being sensible- he's at the computer, half-finished beat blasting on at full sound, with headphones plugging the surrounding noise out.

The center of the chaos is Pyo and this  _girl._ Jihoon's yelling, standing on the sofa, a pillow (previously located on the couch) in one hand and his phone in the other. The girl (the owner of the voice he heard) is similarly positioned, holding a pillow and standing on the sofa, but in her other hand she has a jacket that looks a bit too big to be hers.

Minho sighs and takes out his earphones before stuffing them in his pocket. Immediately, the shouting overwhelms him.

"WANNA FIGHT, LITTLE MAN?"

"I FIGHT FOR MY HONOR! YOU FIGHT FOR NOTHING!"

"WELL, THAT'S WHY I WOULD WIN! I HOLD YE JACKET HOSTAGE! UNTIL YOU ADMIT IT'S BLACK!"

"NEVER!"

"WELL, THEN, SAY BYE TO YOUR JACKET! LET'S JUST END THIS QUICKLY, CAUSE MY VOICE IS GETTING RUINED BECAUSE OF ALL THAT SHOUTING!"

"THEN JUST DON'T SHOUT!"

"NEVER!"

The other members are bemusedly watching, but split into sides. Kyung is sneakily placing a tripwire of earphones right in front of and behind P.O's foot. He doesn't seem to notice.

Minhyuk, off to the side, is trying to take a selfie of the whole situation, struggling even with his protractor arm. Taeil is barely containing his laughter as he throws his arm back, ready to throw the pillow at P.O. Yukwon has a pair of scissors in his hand and is beginning to ascend towards the pillow that the girl's holding.

"Oh, look! Your friend, isn't it?" The girl points, and as P.O turns his head smacks him on the face with it. He staggers and snags his foot on the tripwire, falling down on the sofa.

"Hi, Minho." He groans.

Minho doesn't know what to expect. "Uh, hi. What are you arguing about?"

"What's up?" The girl waves. "Just talking about the _color_ of the  _dang Batmobile._ It's black, I tell you!"

"Um, yeah...." He strides over to watch his friend bury his face in a mound of pillows. "Who is that?" Gesturing to the girl.

"A friend of mine." P.O shrugs. "She was just here to accompany someone else, but since that certain someone else fell asleep, we're just having fun. I did put earmuffs on her," he adds quickly. "which is why she didn't wake up. Obviously."

He scans the room for the "other person" and finds her curled up next to Kyung. She's almost invisible- her small frame swallowed by the black hoodie, her hair is pulled back by a simple hairband. Over the hairband is a small set of fluffy earmuffs.

Curious, he comes closer to her. Kyung greets him and wrapping his arms around the girl, brings her frame closer. "Anneyong Minho-ya."

"Hi." He greets back and frowns, noticing something. The silver bracelet that is wound around her wrist is startlingly familiar, and he realizes it's the exact same one he gave P.O for his birthday.

"Isn't that..." he points at the piece of jewelry and Kyung laughs, setting his head on top of the girl's. "Yeah, it's P.O's. But what do you expect?"

Before he can ask Kyung what exactly is it that he means, the girl stirs and wakes up.

"NO!" Yukwon wailed. "WE'VE BEEN TOO LOUD!"

"Yeah, you have." Zico hmphed. "Now look what you've done. Waking her and all that."

"They all love her like a little sister." Kyung explained, and quickly pushed her gently against the sofa as she yawned.

Her eyes fluttered open. Her eyelashes were long and generally pretty, and he can't help examining her more closely as she unwinds herself from the little ball she was curled up into.

"G'morning." She peeks through her fingers and greets Kyung, snuggling into his side even closer.

He chuckles. "It's the afternoon."

Frowning, she feel her ears and find the earmuffs placed there, and with small fingers attempt to remove it.

"What? Sorry, Kyung-oppa, can you repeat that?"

"It's the afternoon." He takes the earmuffs. "Sorry about that."

"G'afternoon." She corrects herself, and struggles to her feet. She's tiny, if he's guessing accurately it'd be about 160 or so. She's even shorter than Taeil.

"G'afternoon to you too!" P.O jumps up and rushes to her, grabbing her and lifting her up. "Light as ever, I see."

"How long was I sleeping?" Her voice is cute, just like the rest of her. He tells himself to stop getting off track- he should be used to this, he's spent most of his career around cute and beautiful women both.

Zico finally gets off the chair. "An hour and a half." He smiled. "Sleepy, huh?"

"Yeah." She sheepishly grins. "I kind of was."

"Guys." Minho waves. "Hi, who's this?"

"Oh, right! Right! Minho!" P.O hugs him. "We introduce you to this beautiful lady."

She giggles, a blush creeping up on her cheeks noticeably.

"My sister." Jihoon continues. "Pyo (Y/N)."


	2. Chapter 2

You stumble and sleepily rub your eyes.

Who is that?

"Meet my friend, (Y/N). This is Song Minho. He's from the boy band Winner." Your brother tells you, and you dry scrub your face before peering up and seeing someone eerily familiar.

That face....you've seen it before, and it wasn't a pleasant experience.

"I..." You open your mouth to talk.

That's when it hits you.

Minho looks exactly like  _him._

Memories flash through your head and you stumble back a few steps. You remember the alleyway....him....the dim lights....how he...

Your eyes water and you quickly take more steps back, your eyes on him. You watch his every move, like you did that day in the alley. You can't breathe.

Everyone's eyes are on you now. You feel like you're drowning in their gazes, your brother, Kyung, Zico, Yukwon.

Him.

"D...don't...." You manage to choke out, before you fling the door open and run without looking back.


	3. Chapter 3

"What's it with her?" One of the members ask.

Minho rubs the back of his neck. "I don't know. I've never met her before as far as I know, but..."

"But?" Pyo angrily runs his hands through his hair. "Why is she like that? She's never been like this before!"

"I don't..." He slumps on the couch. "Maybe she just doesn't like me?"

"Nonsense." Zico waves his hand. "Minho, she likes everybody. There's something else."

"What is it, then?"

"Maybe I should go after her." Jihoon suggests.

Jiho sighs. "No, just give her time to cool off. She'll come back eventually."

* * *

You feel shivers down you and take deep breaths, trying to calm your frantic heartbeat.

You tried to be nice, but you couldn't help it- his face, his physique, even the way he dressed- it was all so familiar. His expression. Everything.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you try to block out the memories that hit you. A scream almost tears out of your lips as you remember the excruciating pain, like you were being torn open.

You remember how he had no mercy, how he didn't stop when you screamed at him to.

You remember how he rough-handed you, pulling your hair, slapping you.

You remember you prayed to God for it to stop.

You remember how when all the  _pain,_ all the  _horror_ ended, he smirked.

You remember how you walked home, slowly, painfully, bloody, pained and exhausted.

You remember thinking how thankful you were that Jihoonie wasn't here to visit you.

You remember how you sat in the shower, stripped of your dirty torn garments and crying.

Your hand caresses the tender spot on your neck and you flinch.

_Breathe. Deep. Slow. Don't panic._

You feel yourself calming down and you slowly open the bathroom stall, your footsteps seemingly echoing as you stop in front of the mirror.

This is what you look like.

This is what you look like: your eyes red and puffy from crying, your small figure curled up defensively as to make yourself seem smaller. Your face is devoid of makeup and your hairband is on crooked, so you fix it. Your hands, slender and nimble, are trembling. You don't even have any manicure on, like most girls of your age would do.

This is who you made yourself into.

Washing your face so it no longer looks like you've been crying, you exit the bathroom and brace yourself for facing Minho, as well as an apology.

_He's not him. He was a psychopath. Minho is a world-famous rapper and idol. He's not going to do anything to me. He didn't even do anything._

* * *

Minho looks down at his hands, marveling at how the seven Block B members are finally silent but frowning at how (Y/N) ran when he saw him.

What did he do?

_What the fuck did he do wrong?_

"Hey, hey." Kyung patted his shoulder. "Minho, it's not your fault. She's just really shy, and modest."

"She's not like that around you guys."

"Well, she's probably nervous."

"Why is she like that in the first place?" He asks Kyung. "Not meaning to sound rude or anything, of course. Just- just curious."

Kyung sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. "I know dude, it's just.... not my place to tell you."

"But-"

The door pushes open slowly and (Y/N) tiptoes into the room.

"(Y/N)!" Pyo, who is apparently incredibly bad at reading facial expressions, doesn't get her  _go away I need alone time_ face and instantly grabs her arms. "Are you okay? What's wrong? Why were you like that?"

"I....I'm okay." Her voice is weak and she doesn't sound okay. "Uhm....Min- minho-ssi...I'm... sorry about wh- what happened. P...please don't g-get offended." She looks smaller than ever and Minho just stands up and approaches her- obviously not knowing what to do.

(Y/N) visibly shrinks back as he takes a closer step towards her. "Are you okay?"

"Y...yeah!"

* * *

He walks towards you and you flinch, backing away. You can't breathe. It feels like a strap is tightening around your chest, applying pressure.

_No, no, no, no!_

A distant memory flashes in your mind.

_You trip over something and scream, scrambling away from the man who's slowly approaching you with a smirk playing at his lips._

_You beg him to stop. You plead, your voice so hoarse but not caring._

_He doesn't, either._

_He towers over your small frame and grabs you by the hair, slamming your back to a wall._

"(Y/N), (Y/N)!" Everything is blurry, but you can make out the distant figure of Kyung catching you as darkness creeps into your vision.


	4. Chapter 4

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

Wincing at the annoying sound, you slowly open your eyes.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

_What's that sound?_

You try to move your arm but find that you can't. It's like it's stuck there, held down by a rock.

Your vision turns sharper and you can now make out a hospital. Like the day after the incident.

There's a heart monitor and an IV drip, like that day.

The room is white.

You're wearing a blue gown.

The similarities strike you and your breathing turns ragged, quick.  _Help._

You think you can see his face leaning over you. His handsome yet cruel expression is easily recognizable. "It's going to be all right, pretty girl." He pats your cheek, but it feels more like slapping. "It's okay."

Trying to jerk out of his grip, you thrash frantically but you're bound down by straps. You start to panic and you scream, your dry throat hurting even more. He slowly takes off his shoes and clambers onto the bed. "Now, now. Calm down."

You try to push away. "H...HELP! NO! NO!"

People rush into your room, and that's when you fade out again.

* * *

 

"(Y/N)?"

A voice calls out your name and you shake your head slightly, working your neck. One hand reaches up to rub the sleep from your eyes.

You see who it is and try to say something, but all that comes out is a dry croak. He's the person you want the least in here, but you can't talk.

Minho snatches the glass of water by your bed and passes it to you. "Here."

You drink all the water, and move it around your mouth to hydrate it. As soon as you feel better, you ask, "W...where's Kyung and Jiho?"

His eyebrows shoot straight up but he doesn't question your motives. You know he half expected you to call for your brother, but you're not exactly well acquainted with him, especially compared to Kyung or Jiho. "Them, your brother and the rest of Block B were forced home. I hauled them out of the hospital by their asses. They were concerned, just so you know. They wanted to be here but had a concert tomorrow, so..." he shrugs.

As you watch him talk, you begin to realize the position you're in. You're there helpless and weak while Minho is perched on a chair, looking exactly like... exactly like him. 

He must have sensed your discomfort, because he begins to stand up. "Oh, I think you need some alone time. I'll just-"

"N...no!" You stutter. "It's... it's okay, you can stay....I won't have another attack..."

"Did I do anything?" Mino, still keeping his distance, asks.

Instantly, you reject the fact. "N...no, it's not tha- that....I apologize for making you feel that way...."

He chuckles. "Stop apologizing, it's not your fault. I just wondered."

Even his  _laugh_ is like him.

You don't know what to say, so you just put a hand over your mouth and giggle softly, a forced one that's been practiced so many times no one even notices the difference.

"It's not like I look like one of your exes?"

You shake your head, coming to terms that this man is maybe a bit more nicer than the other one. "I....I've never..." Your words get stuck as you stare at his face. The agonizingly, painfully similar face that caused you so much pain. "N...never had..."

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." He casually puts his large hand over your smaller one. "It's fine."

Your hand instinctively stiffens and your body automatically goes to fight-or-flight mode, one arm covering your chest defensively. The other is stiff, your hand cold and clammy under Minho's warm one. "C..can...I'm sorry, b- but..." Your tongue twists up as his eyes meet yours. The all so familiar eyes that haunted your dreams for several years. "H- hand..." You whisper, barely audiable, and Mino looks, surprised, before retracting his. "I'm sorry!"

"I...it's okay.." You mumble, and wonder how two people can look so similar. Minho's large hands look incredibly similar to the ones that grabbed you in the alleyway, that landed hit after hit on your cheek.

"Thank god." He stuffs his hands in his pockets. "I'll tell my hands to behave. Bad hands! In!"

That draws a faint smile out of you, the first real smile you've shown in his presence.


	5. Chapter 5

"K- Kyung oppa..."

"Mwo?"

"Can I ask y- you something?"

He turned towards you. "Yeah, (Y/N)nie?"

You curled your knees up to your chest. "Do- do you think I should t- try and be... friends.... with Minho-ssi?"

Kyung raised his eyebrows- he didn't expect that question. "Well...depending on why."

"E- everybody says more friends are better f- for my life."

"Well... they are." He patted her gently. "Do you want more friends?"

"I... I don't know..." You looked hopelessly lost.

"But...you do need more friends, (Y/N). You're too shy."

"S- sorry..." you looked down.

"There's nothing to be sorry about!"

"I...." Your brows furrowed, and his heart warmed at how incredibly  _cute_ you were. "I...okay."

"Hey, how bout this?" Kyung suggested. "You try your best to be friends with him, and if it doesn't work out you can call your big, strong, handsome oppa to scare him off, okay?"

"Isn't- isn't that mean...?"

"Nah." He shrugged, almost laughing. "I was joking, (Y/N)! You can laugh!"

So she did, a soft giggle that fluttered his heart.

"Th- thanks for the advice, oppa... I.... I should get going..." With that, she stood up and made her way out.

_You have no idea what you do to me._

 


	6. Chapter 6

The next time you met him was at the shop you worked in.

You had just sent out a crazed fangirl that insisted on talking to you about the whole history of Wanna One, from birth to present (although how she knew that, you didn't know) and was organizing the whole shelf full of Wanna One albums that she had messed up, when the bell rang and a man came in.

The tall, broad men were the hardest to deal with- not that they had a problem, rather, it was that you did. If they stood too close to you, you would start to get nervous and stutter more.

Swallowing your fear, you shyly smiled at him. "W...what can I do for you, s..sir?"

"Can I have a book please?" He removed his surgical mask (which was a rather queer fashion statement) and softly smiled at you. Your breath caught in your throat as you realized it was Minho, your brother's best friend.

"O...oh, it's- it's you." Your heart leaped to your throat, and you tried to calm yourself. No matter what you did, you just couldn't get used to him. He just looked so damn similar.

"Hi." He removed his hat, showing- with some satisfaction- not the black hair he had had when you had first met, but instead a golden-brown color. You marveled at how silky and soft it looked, how perfect. You wanted to run your hands through it, wanted to see how it felt-

No. You wanted to crawl into a hole and die. He raised an eyebrow and shrugged, "Just call me Minho. Or oppa."

You swallowed thickly, feeling yourself shake a little as he steps closer. "Are you okay?"

"Yes....oppa...." Traumatizing events flash before your eyes and you remember him saying the exact same thing.  _Call me oppa...._

"I'm sorry for whatever I did the first time I met..." he apologized and his hand touched your forehead, checking for a temperature. You flinched, visibly, and immediately apologies spilled out of your mouth. "Woah, woah, it's not your fault, (Y/N), I probably should have asked..."

"I...it's.." Your voice sounds feeble as you reply: "It's okay. So you were talking about- talking about a- a- a book?"

"Yeah." He nodded. "Any genre is okay, thanks. Can you recommend me something?"

You thought for a moment, pondering whether you wanted to share this with him, then gestured at him to follow you. Tugging down your shirt as far as it would go nervously, you scanned the bookshelves and picked out a book. "Uh, I... I recommend this one... it's a personal favourite of mine..."

He flipped the pages in his hands and a small smile played at his lips, bringing out his handsome features in a completely caring way- the one thing that set him so apart from... from  _him._  "This is such a nerdy name. We are all...." A small chuckle could be heard from him. "It's by Susan Nielsen?"

"Yeah. It.. it makes you think a lot. I like it." You explained quietly, a blush dusting at your cheeks. You had never let a customer get one of your favourites- you had usually just given them what you thought they would like. Somehow giving Minho, out of all people, this book, was immensely embarrassing- it felt like opening up a part of your soul to him.

"I'll be looking forwards to it then." He tapped the book on his palm and followed you towards the cashier. "How much is it?"

"Uh..." You entered in the price, and your eyes widened when he gave you nearly twice the amount. "Um, let me just..." You dug under the table for a plastic bag and handed him one.

He shook his head. "No thanks, I'll just carry it in my bag. That thing's just going to contribute to environmental pollution."

_How could two peole who look so similar have such different personalities?_

"Okay..." You mumbled, a small smile gracing your lips. "Here..." You rang up your cashier and was just about to give him the amount when he started walking out. "Minho...oppa....your change..."

"Keep it." He winked at you, pulling on his mask. "It's not like I have that little money, right?"

"Th...thanks..." You buried your face in your hands as you tried to hide the blush that spread across your cheeks. Why was he doing this to you?

**Whoever can guess the name of this book WITHOUT SEARCHING, I'll take in a request and PUBLISHY PUBLISHY!!!**


	7. Chapter 7

"Can you get home by yourself today?" Pyo asked over the phone. "Sorry, (Y/N)nie, but I'm really busy today."

"O...okay..." You glanced at the door Minho had walked out of a few minutes ago. "But... but it's dark...."

"Come on, (Y/N)." He sighed. "I can't pick you up forever."

His words stung and you flinched, thanking god that he wasn't here to watch. "I'm sorry- I... I'll go. Bye."

Before he could reply, you hung up. It wasn't your brother's fault- you could have told him if you wanted to, but you didn't. You wanted to spare him the pain of finding out what his sister, whom he loved and was supposed to protect, had gone through. You wanted him to keep being happy, not sad because of something so insignificant like you.

But as you stared out at the darkness, you couldn't hide the fear crawling within you. The last time you had went out in the darkness of the streets, just like that, by yourself, something worse had happened-

No. Don't think about it. You chided yourself for even starting to go towards that train of thought and shoved your phone in your bag, pushing the door open to be greeted with still air, which only added to your tension.

Wrapping your arms around yourself (even though it wasn't cold) you went left, like you always did, and braced yourself for the scariest bit. There was one long alleyway with less working streetlights than the others, and although it was dark and scary, it _was_ the shortest way to your house.

"Just a little more... come on...." You told yourself, rather unconvincingly. Every step was slower, smaller. Every flickering shadow seemed like  _him._

Just calm down. Calm down and you'll be fine, it's not like anything's going to-

A hand clamped over your mouth, and at the same time an arm grabbed your wrist and pulled you into an alleyway.

Tears coming to your eyes, you let out a muffled scream, but soon gave up and instead looked up. Three men were leering at you, eyes lingering on your chest and midsection a little too long for your taste.

The trauma flashed through you and you froze, helpless. Their faces blended with  _his,_ seeming as if three of him were standing in front of you. Your breathing quickened. Your legs were shaky, almost unable to support your weight.

_No.... no, no, no...._

"What have we got here?" The first guy, with his hand clamped around your mouth, tossed the second a string of rope. "How about we teach her not to walk the streets alone?"

"A good lesson." The third agreed. The most horrible thing was, they weren't even ugly and looking dumb like fanfictions. They looked  _normal._ Brown or black hair, similar colored eyes, normal guys at first glance. Handsome, even.

_They were almost like him._

The tears starting to flow, you started to beg, but the first guy pulled out a piece of cloth and stuffed it in your mouth. You fought, rigidly, but adrenaline was flowing through your veins and you were seeing double, that night popping into reminder every few seconds and rendering you helpless, powerless.

_No, this can't happen again...please..._

One of them kicked you and you fell to the ground, your hands tied behind you and your legs bound together to prevent you from running. Another one started to remove your jacket, showing your flimsy tee.

The third guy ducked down and whistled through his teeth, his hand brushing against your clothed curves. "Look at her _curves._ Wow."

You let out a muffled moan, trying to pull away from him.

He reached forwards, one hand now fully groping you and another reaching under your pants. "Aww, look at her. She's _crying._ "

You half-groaned half-screamed as his finger pressed against you, one thought flashing through your head.

_Him._

_Him._

_Him._

_Him._

_Him._

He reached out and his tongue snaked out between his lips, tracing yours, You threw a fit, the tears now streaming down as you remembered that night.

_It's going to happen again. Oh, god, please...._

Almost delicately, his teeth caught your bottom lip and pulled. You could feel the blood rushing towards the puncture his teeth had left.

He was almost on top of you. One leg was thrown over you, and he was  _grinding_ his clothed bulge against- against-.

_Just like that night._

_no, no, no, no, no-_

A car horn was your savior.

"I dialed 112! Now Scram!"

The three men picked themselves up the floor, panicking, and immediately ran from the flashing lights of the car.

A familiar voice.

"Jesus Christ, (Y/N)! Are you okay?"

You looked up to see  _him_ standing over you.

Terror was the last thing you felt as you passed out.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

When you woke up, you weren't in your own room.

That you were sure of.

But nothing else.

Lying and staring at the unfamiliar ceiling for a few moments, you closed your eyes and tried to remember what exactly had happened to you. You had been walking home alone, because Jihoonie had told you he was busy, but then you-

You gasped and sat up, completely remembering everything. The three men, the way it triggered the memories back, the way, the way-

Oh, god.

You fumbled with the blankets, pulling them away from your body, and immediately headed towards what you presumed was a door- but wasn't.

It was a mirror.

Glimpsing yourself in the mirror, you turned your full attention towards it.

Your reflection was small and frail, wavy black hair falling over your shoulders. You were clad in not what you remembered you had worn- jeans with a large hoodie- but instead an XL size black shirt falling over to mid-thigh and sleeves reaching right above your elbows. Your original clothes were nowhere to be seen, which made you realize that...

whoever had undressed and dressed you had seen your underwear and your body.

Shuddering at the thought, you wrapped your arms around yourself, noticing the purple words _XX_ embroidered on the front and the back. Stumbling a little, you righted yourself and saw your eyes staring right back at you.

What was the  _scariest_ was that you didn't recognize your eyes. The last time you had looked in the mirror in a house was a few years ago, before the incident. You didn't keep mirrors in your apartment because you just didn't want to look at yourself- this time, curiosity had gotten the best of you.

You hated what you saw in mirrors.

The eyes you saw now were nothing like you remembered- the ones you remembered were cheerful, bright and curious. The ones now were like broken mirrors, stuck down with tape but easily shattered a moment later. Uncontrollable emotions hiding behind a mask of calm.

But no time to think about it now.

You slowly opened the door, as to not make any sound, and tiptoed across the hallway, hearing voices at the far end.

Male voices. Two of them.

Maybe the third had gone out?

"-not necessary." 

The second man's voice sounded suspiciously familiar as he talked to the first, "But-" dropping his tone even further, you were forced to walk forwards even more. "-she'd be dead."

Your heartrate increased at that simple word and you chewed your lip nervously, before peeking into the living room.

  _He_ was there, the last memory you had before you passed out.

_Him._

You let out a gasp and fell to the floor, curling up into a small ball. No, no, this had to be fake.....

Footsteps thudded towards you and you shook violently, preparing yourself mentally for whatever was going to happen. A warm hand touched you, and you shuddered as you imagined what it would do to you. Your muscles tensed, preparing for a blow.

Mumbles of conversation.

Then warmth engulfed you.

You peeked up to see him hugging you, his hands not wandering anywhere but kept firmly on your back. His hand rubbed smooth circles into your back and he comforted you.

"Minho, remember?" He whispered, and you relaxed into his touch. Mino, your brother's friend. Someone you could trust.

Minho.

You unwound your arms from your knees and hugged him back fiercely, his warmth pressing against you. He pressed kisses on top of your head and mumbled promises, promises that you would be safe, promises that he wouldn't let you get into danger.

"Don't...." You swallowed. "Don't leave me, Minho....oppa...." You sobbed into his chest.

He shushed you. "I won't. I won't. Sorry for almost letting that happen to you."

_Two people who look the same, but are so, so, different._

"Promise you won't leave?" You looked up at him.

He smiled at you, something so genuine and pure, something you hadn't seen in a long time.

"Promise." He nodded.

* * *

 

"Promise you won't leave?" She stared up at him, her eyes brimmed with tears and so  _broken,_ it broke his heart as well.

Mino smiled at her. She seemed like someone who needed help, someone who needed someone to care. The smile he gave her wasn't like the fake smiles he gave away, no different to free samples, no: it was the smile he reserved for those closest to his heart and those he really wanted his smile to belong to.

"Promise."

She nodded, satisfied, and he warmed at the sight of seeing her so at rest, so peaceful. It was wrong that someone so pure and innocent should be so burdened as well.

"Do you want anything to eat?"

(Y/N) shook her head. She was so frail; he sometimes wondered why Pyo didn't take enough care of her- did he really just think it was enough, or was he just a bit lazy to?

 "Where do you want to go?"

She just peeked at the window. "C...can I stay? I...it's a bit dark...."

It struck him then. She was  _scared._

"Sure." A bitter pang resonated within his chest. "Stay as long as you like."

* * *

 

The black haired man wandered down the corridor. Mino had asked him to stay in his room, but he was hungry, he needed a walk, and he was incredibly, incredibly itching to meet his flatmate's new girlfriend. Oh, sorry, did he say girlfriend? He meant girl-person-friend.

Turning, Jinwoo saw no one and frowned at the glass of half-full milk **(see what I did there, huh? SEE WHAT I DID TO SHOW HOW POSITIVE JINWOO IS???)**. He could have sworn-

Oh.

On the couch, two figures were curled up together. The girl was huddled up in a tiny ball, her face peaceful and happy, even. Minho was protectively shielding her, her form curled up against his chest and his hand resting gently against her hip. The other, he noted with a raised eyebrow, was covering the girl's, his fingers interlocking hers.

He  _had_ seen the girl's reaction to men touching her- and was, of course, surprised that she would let Minho out of everyone touch her like that. As far as he knew, the girl had some kind of trauma against his friend or something about him.

Smiling softly, he took the blanket thrown on the floor and draped it over both of them.

"Turn off the lights...." Minho mumbled as he shifted a little. **(AHA! SEE WHAT I DID THERE? TURN OFF THE LIGHTS????)**

Jinwoo smiled and did as he said.


End file.
